The Color of Life
by Literary Melody
Summary: One-shot dedicated to my 700th reviewer, emilia.lozano.el, for one of my other works. Eowyn has always felt uncomfortable in her settings and has always craved roots that would keep her spirited mind grounded. Faramir has been her anchor, but is it wrong to want to have a true place to come home to?


**Hello, everyone! This is a story dedicated to my 700th reviewer on my other in-progress story, "The Beautifully Dark Sister." You do not need to know that story in order to understand this one, but you should go check it out! Thank you so much for the idea - I absolutely loved it, and I'm sorry that it took so long for me to finally get it up here. I wanted to make sure that it came out just right, and it fought me for a little bit. Let me know what you all think!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with J.R.R. Tolkien's work, and the idea for this piece goes to** _.el._ **Thanks a bunch for your support, and I hope you like your one-shot!**

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Rohan's color was a rather majestic green, with nobility imbued in the dark shade that soaked in all of the sunshine's rays like a greedy sponge. It had been a somewhat ironic color for her country as well, given the fact that much of Rohan was plains with a dusty brown tint to them. Vibrant colors weren't well-known – even in their fashion.

But _green_ … She supposed it made sense, having such a color. Gondor has its royal blue and striking silver, but her ancestors had made the choice to leave Gondor in search for something else. They weren't looking for royalty or to be striking… they looked for _life._

Éowyn had been content for a long while knowing that her ancestors had succeeded in their venture, and she was fiercely proud of her lineage. Her people fought with every breath to ensure the survival of their youthful country, in the shadow of Gondor's gleaming history and prowess.

What she hadn't realized before was that though her ancestors had found life… they seemed to have missed some of it in Gondor.

Rohan had plenty of forests to be sure – it had the Forest of Fangorn on its doorstep just outside of Helm's Deep even. But here, it was different. She knew pine trees and their scent like she knew the smell of horse, but she had never seen the sharp angles of a maple leaf until she came to Ithilien. She hadn't smelt warm, wet earth that was teeming with green stems and young bark. The water in Rohan had been set and looked and tasted like the rock had birthed it. In Ithilien, the water seemed to always be there, floating and weaving and speaking quiet whispers. It was playful as it meandered in and out of the ground.

Éowyn was a woman of harshness, and she liked to think of herself as perhaps being born of the same rock that Rohan's water was. It was unforgiving and purposeful – dedicated without the ability to understand the meaning of 'no.' Éowyn was not playful, and she _never_ babbled like the brooks here did.

Seeing the green that Rohan had once owned in her heart, and hearing the water's betrayal with its new peaceful tones…

Ithilien hadn't impressed her at first. If anything, the shieldmaiden feared it. Its beauty was _too_ perfect to be real. From the Golden Halls of Meduseld, Éowyn could see for miles and know the instant that something dark was coming for her. In this environment, everything hid in the foliage, and every rustle was an enemy, even when it was only a breeze.

She knew that it upset Faramir that she viewed his precious woods this way. This place had shaped him into the Man that he was, and for that, she supposed she could be grateful to them. Where the wind had carved her features and cleansed her waking eyes, these tender brooks had allowed him peace and security.

He had made the generous offer of passing the Stewardship of Gondor to someone else once they married. He said that he would go to Rohan if that was what she wanted, and he even said it with that blasted soft smile of his that made her muscles go lax.

But there wasn't life in her Rohan anymore. She had lost her parents, and now, she would not have an uncle to go home to. Her brother, strong and brave, was still there, but his mind was now constantly occupied by the state of his tattered country. And what little time he did have to breathe, he would take comfort in the Gondorian princess, Lothíriel. Éowyn did not blame him for it. Lothíriel was light and soft and full of hope, where Éowyn was just the opposite. The world had carved at her soul too badly for her to be of any help rebuilding her brother, or her country for that matter.

So she told Faramir without hesitation that she would stay with him here in Gondor. At first, the prospect had made her anxious, as the noblewomen here were of a different make. They shared attention between them all where Éowyn had been forced into the public eye since her birth. It wasn't that she was unhappy to share such attention, but having so many people know so many secrets made her nervous.

It hadn't taken her new husband long to recognize her discomfort around the other Women who spent much of their time gossiping and discussing fabrics and patterns. So, he pulled her away to this place – to _his_ place.

Éowyn knew that her discomfort here was less than it was in Minas Tirith, but it was still present. She began to really wonder if there was ever going to be a place in this world where she felt as though she could truly belong. Her blonde hair stuck out amongst Minas Tirith, reminding everyone that she was an outsider. And here, she felt blinded by the green, as though the color was mocking her and letting her know which country it favored more.

She stayed inside of the house most of the time now, and it was here that she was presently, surrounding herself in four walls that didn't have windows. The kitchens were where she had found the most solace, and the alcohol stored in some of its cabinets had become quite familiar to her at this point.

The cooks were here at the moment though, so she lazily drummed her fingers on the counter, watching them bustle back and forth as they prepared her evening meal. She knew their names, of course, but they never spoke with one another. They had questioned her presence in their domain months ago, but they had accepted her as a permanent fixture in their kitchens now.

Another figure walked in, and she smiled briefly at his coming. Faramir knew of her refuge here, and despite his many urgings that she explore her new home, she had declined.

His large, calloused hand landed on her shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze before he bent down and pressed a short kiss to her temple. "What have you gotten these cooks to make for you today, my heart?"

All of the tension in her shoulders eased at his touch, and her eyes fell closed for a moment as she basked in his presence. All of the demons that resided in Éowyn's past could be quelled by just one of his touches. At least she knew that if there was not a place that was her home, his arms and gaze would suffice.

"I am told deer," she replied, brandishing a perfected smile that she knew only he would see through. "And of course, fish," she added.

He saw the scrunching of her nose, no doubt at the prospect of the scaly animal and laughed, pulling her close to his side. The cooks paid no need to their lord and lady, too focused on their spices and knives.

"Will you join me for a walk before dinner then?" he finally asked softly. The smile he gave was reserved and accepting, already knowing of her answer.

"No, my scholar, I shall remain here. Perhaps I will enchant these culinary artists to teach me their tricks," she replied.

He chuckled a little at that, noting that the cooks all scoffed without even glancing over to them. "Well, today, I'm afraid Ithilien requires its Lady to venture outside," he told her coolly.

Éowyn stared up at him, surprised by his "requirement." Normally, he would give her a small sigh and look at her with a touch of disappointment before leaving her in the kitchens. For a time, she had worried he would resent her for her introversion, so she made sure to be extra lively at dinners, and that seemed to pacify him.

Still shocked by his demand of her, she didn't resist when he tugged her up from her chair and began pulling her through the house.

When the sunlight pooled through the canopy to touch her body in warm patches, her surprise had transformed into awe. Of course, she had been outside in these woods before, but much of the time had been during the nighttime hours when she was still trying to adjust to her home. The one time she had been outside during the day had left her with her dismal thoughts of the color green, and she hadn't been out since.

That had been months ago when summer reigned supreme over the woods.

Now, the world had radically changed from what she was expecting. Autumn had arrived in Ithilien and her eyes were wide to take it all in. Every piece of green had been eradicated from her vision, replaced with fiery reds and oranges – even the occasional yellow. The ground crinkled under her shoes as fragile leaves snapped under her weight.

She turned and looked at her scholar, whose brown attire looked less academic and more like the Ranger she knew he was trained as. Briefly, she looked down at her own clothes, seeing that she had picked out a dull brown dress of her own, matching her environment perfectly.

Faramir hadn't released her hand, giving it a tug after she took in all of the colors to venture further into the woods. She allowed herself to move with him, eyes staring up at the falling leaves with amazement. The smell was warm – unlike the summer months when everything was teeming with perfumes that made her head swim. No, now it was… warm. The air was crisp on her tongue and the rattle that went through trees as the wind did sounded like music.

The sound of rushing water took over the sound of the wind, and she looked down from the canopy to see a waterfall standing before her, tall and proud like the rock walls of Helm's Deep. The water crashed against the rocks below, radiating outwards into a clear, blue pool that mirrored the cloudless sky she could now see above her.

For a moment, she wondered if she was trapped in a ravine, but one look to Faramir calmed her worries. He released her hand and undid the laces of his boots, rolling up the ends of his trousers once the leather was set aside.

Without waiting for her, he waded into the pool. Éowyn made quick to follow, not bothering to lift up her skirt as she walked in after him. "How do you like this Ithilien?" he asked conversationally once she reached his side.

She could see the fear in his eyes as he asked the question. This place was one of the safest places he had ever been and her dismissal of its summer had hurt him; this she knew. But its autumn…

"Can it always be like this?" she asked with wonder, looking back at the trees behind them. She heard him chuckle, but she kept her eyes trained on the trees. "I quite love the colors," she remarked. "They look real to me. I think at last I can see your Ithilien, Faramir. I can see why you love it so much."

When she turned back to look at him, she barely caught sight of his smile before his lips were pressed against hers, hands placed lovingly on her waist to pull her close. She pulled away first and looked up at him, seeing the true peace in his eyes that hadn't left since they arrived in Ithilien. With a mischievous grin and a chuckle, she gave him a harsh push, sending him careening backwards into the water.

Faramir's wet head emerged from the water and he openly laughed at her antics before standing and reaching for her. Éowyn backed away quickly, but he was quicker, latching to her and falling back.

The water was freezing against her skin, reminding her of Rohan's harsh winter winds. When they surfaced, her teeth immediately began chattering, but she smiled at her husband all the while, feeling him push away her wet hair from her eyes.

He kissed her again, both of their lips quivering from the cold so much that they could only break away laughing at one another.

They abandoned the pool and began making their way back home.

"I had worried for your happiness, Éowyn," he said quietly as they walked, fingers intertwined. She sighed and looked down at the ground covered in its brown, crinkly leaves. "I only want your happiness – you know this. If you could not be happy here, I would go wherever you needed to be."

She smiled at that, remembering all those months ago when they met in a healing ward and she had begged release. He had followed her all over then too. "Faramir, my happiness does not come from where we live," she answered, stopping with their home just coming into view. He looked down at her, waiting. "My happiness will always rest with you. It does not matter so much to me where we live, as long as I am living with you."

"Rohan couldn't make you happy – you told me so," he argued. "And I saw your discomfort in Minas Tirith. I brought you here, thinking that my sanctuary would…" He trailed off, lips closing.

"Your sanctuary in Ithilien is that of summer, my scholar," she stated, reaching to trace his cheekbone tenderly. "I am not a Woman of summer. I have been compared to winter and even to a pale spring. But now…" She looked around her again, marveling at all of the colors – colors she had only seen during sunsets and sunrises, colors so vibrant that even her bones felt its warmth. "Ithilien is your home." His eyes looked hopeful, and her smile widened. "So, I daresay that Ithilien can be my home as well. But my first home will always be with you, Faramir."

"Rohan?" he asked as they began moving towards the house once more.

Eowyn reached out her hand to catch a falling red leaf. "I don't think green is quite my color."

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 **There it is! Please let me know what you think, and if you feel so inclined, go check out my other works!**

 **Love you all lots!**

 **\- LM**


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